Curl Up and Die
by Scarlet Hanson
Summary: It's 1947, and Prussia is gone. The nations, particularly Canada and Germany, mourn his death.


Canada just lied in his bed, curled up and sobbing. Germany had just called him with the news.

"God, no…" he cried, falling back into tears. "Why, why?"

_I don't like the steps I took to get to look into your deepest feelings._

"I… I can't live without you!" Canada screamed. "Please…" he whispered, sobs choking him. He was so dizzy. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. "You can't be gone. Not forever."

Prussia was gone. Officially disbanded. The country no longer existed. But Canada couldn't accept that.

He couldn't be gone. Not him. No, no…

_I don't like the place I'm in, head space within the hard wood and the ceiling._

Canada just hugged his pillow to him and cried. Where was he supposed to go? Who was he going to cry to? His "family" was nothing more than a group of assholes. America, France, Britain… they're the ones who pulled the trigger! They killed him, his Prussia, his dearest…

Canada sniffed once, curling in closer to himself. "Prussia…" he called to his lover, who he knew wouldn't hear him.

_If I'm restless then why do I want nothing but to rest my soul?_

Little did he know, Prussia heard everything.

Prussia stood in the doorway, knowing Canada couldn't see or hear him. He wished he could hold him again, tell him how much he loved him, how sorry he was for all the wrongs he had done. He wished he could just say goodbye.

_I don't get this and I know why. You see sometimes things are just beyond control._

Prussia did not regret his decisions. He stood behind his brother, and fought as hard as he could. His death was a result of the war in which he had given his all. It was a soldier's death, an honorable way to die.

He walked over to Canada, who was still crying and moaning. He clung to his pillow and shoved his face in it to muffle his screams. Prussia's eyes filled with tears at the sight.

"If only you could know how badly this hurts…" Prussia told him, aware that Canada couldn't hear him. "If only you could know how much I really love you. If only there was a way to tell you…"

_I don't mind, but I'm not surprised to find that you do. I'm not surprised to find that you do. I know you do._

No, Prussia would never regret his decisions when it came to war. He would only regret never telling Canada every day what the boy meant to him, the depth of his feelings. He would regret not telling him that it would be fine, and that death was so much more peaceful than people thought. It didn't hurt at all.

_I feel fine, but I know the same does not apply to you. I know the same does not apply to you._

Prussia knew it was time to go, to make his final visit. He stroked Canada's hair, which didn't move. He felt the soft hair beneath his fingers, but knew Canada did not feel his touch. He thought of a way to say goodbye, to let Canada know that he loved him always. How could he communicate?

Canada sat up at the sound of something falling in his bathroom. He clutched the pillow to his chest and walked cautiously to the bathroom. Peering inside, he saw no one. He walked in and looked at his mirror. There was a small patch of fog on the mirror, as if someone had breathed on it. In the fog were the words _love you, birdie_. As the fog dissipated, Canada fell to his knees and screamed and sobbed.

_So I guess that I'll curl up and die, too._

Germany clung to his beer bottle. It wasn't the first, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He was sitting at his desk, his upper body lying on the desk. Sprawled out on top of his paperwork, his eyes stared at the wall. He lifted his head enough to take a swig of beer and dropped it once more.

"P-Prussia…" he called, his voice choked by tears. He felt a tear leap from the corner of his eye to the desk and didn't bother wiping it away. More tears came and Germany just let them fall. There was no point in pretending he was okay. He was alone in his own home, after all. And he had just lost the single most important person in the world to him. The man who raised him, who found him as a teenager and cared for him, even though Germany had no memories of who he was or where he was going.

_Clinging to the remnants of perfection like most do after they break it_

Germany heard a small choked sound from inside the room, and jumped to his feet. He drew his pistol, checking the room with his eyes before moving quietly to inspect the rest of the house. He found nothing, and upon realizing the source of the noise fell to his knees in despair.

The sound he heard was his own sob.

He dropped the gun, his hands burying his face as he fell into a fit of sobs. He curled up into a ball, sitting with his knees drawn to his chest and his arms clutching his legs. He just kept crying, unable to stop the torrent of grief overtaking him.

_Not knowing which direction's the correct one, do I discard or remake it?_

"Where do I go from here?" Germany asked the air around him. "What am I supposed to do?" He uncurled himself long enough to throw a stray beer bottle next to him at the wall, watching it as it shattered. He wasn't satisfied, though. He broke another bottle on the wall, sobbing once more. Even in their state, those bottles were still more intact than he was.

"What the hell do I do now?" he screamed at the wall. He was livid. Why, why would they take away his _bruder_? He was nothing, less than nothing without Prussia.

_Because if I don't know then I don't know. But I may know someone who knows me more than I._

Germany just stared at the fragments of glass on the floor, wishing he could feel nothing. He just wanted to go numb, to never feel this pain again.

Italy had surrendered and fought for the enemy. The Allies had conquered his land. Russia was breathing down his neck every day, hungry for revenge against something Germany hadn't even known was happening. Hitler had killed himself. Japan was terribly wounded by America. Prussia was all Germany had left. And now, in 1947, the Allies had officially dissolved him as a country.

Germany gripped his hair in agony. When would this nightmare end?

_And if I somehow could rest this soul, maybe control could find its way back to my life._

Prussia stepped through the door, which remained closed, and looked upon his little brother. "Hey! You look like shit!" he joked, but Germany was unresponsive.

Germany cried once more, a bass sob ripping from his throat. Prussia jumped at the sound. "West? Jesus, you haven't cried since you were a kid." Germany's tie was crooked as Hell, his shirt rumpled and stained. His face was red and tear-stained. In short, he was totally and utterly chaotic. Prussia felt a little sad at the sight, but kept a cocky smile on his face. "Well, you'll be fine, kid. I promise!" Prussia's smile fell.

"I…I know how hard it is to say goodbye, West. I know you don't remember the day Gramps Germania died… it was rough, kid. But I still had you, West. I always had you."

_Well I don't mind, but I'm not surprised to find that you do. You see, I know that I have done all this to you._

"But this time, you're not gonna have big bruder Prussia to rely on." Prussia smiled slightly, his eyes filled with complete sadness. Germany just stayed where he was, rocking back and forth and clinging to his hair. Prussia would never say it, but the sight of his ever-strong brother falling apart before him broke his heart beyond repair. He wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and hug his brother until all the pain went away.

But Prussia knew there was no easy fix to this kind of pain. There was no band-aid you could slap on this wound that gushed sorrow. So he knelt down next to his brother and spoke loudly in his ear.

_And I feel fine, but I know the same does not apply to you. Yeah, I know the same does not apply to you._

"You listen to me, okay?" Prussia said, tears filling his eyes as well. "This isn't goodbye. It's a new start. This isn't fucking goodbye!" he screamed, tears falling on his own face. "Don't you fucking dare cry for me, West. You're going to cry for now, you're gonna pick your ass up off this floor, and you're gonna move on with your life. You got it? And you're never gonna regret a fucking thing you did, because you are the best person I have ever known!" Prussia wiped his cheeks roughly. "And I'm only saying all this cuz I know you can't fucking hear me, because I was too much of a fucking coward to say all this shit to you while I still could." Prussia took a deep breath before continuing. "You've got so many years ahead of you, West. And the only thing I will ever regret is not being smart enough or strong enough to survive so I could spend those years with you." Prussia reached out to touch his brother when he heard a voice behind him.

"Time's up," the voice said, a gentle female voice.

Prussia withdrew his hand. "Hear that, West? The angel of death is taking care of me now." He wiped his eyes again and smiled. "Well, see ya 'round." He turned to leave when a single tear fell onto Germany's arm.

Germany looked up, feeling the tear fall on his arm. Unsure what it was, he dipped his index finger in it and tasted it. When he discovered it was a tear, he stood up. "Bruder?" He looked around again to find his brother. But it was too late.

The Angel of Death had taken Prussia to the other side to join Germania and all the other fallen nations, where he received a warm welcome.

_So I guess that I'll curl up and die, too. Yeah, I'll curl up with you until I die with you._

Far away, France stood on his balcony to his house in Paris. The girl was still asleep in his bed, but he did not feel any better. He took out a cigarette and lit it. After a long pull on the cigarette and a sigh that blew out all the smoke, he spoke to the wind.

"Goodbye, _mon fraire._"

_ Yeah, I'll curl up with you until I die with you._

Spain heard the news on the radio and crossed himself. "Goodbye, _mi amigo_. I will miss you."

_ Yeah, I'll curl up with you until I die with you._

Austria stood looking out his window, and rubbed his temple. Today was simply not a good day for anything. Music, friends, wine… nothing could fill the hole in his heart. Hungary entered the study and saw this, setting down the tea she had prepared for him.

Hugging him around the waist, she said gently, "I know you miss him."

Austria just nodded. Hungary held him closer to her until he turned around and returned the embrace. He held her as she began to cry, and internally said goodbye to his rival and dear friend.

_ Yeah, I'll curl up with you, my baby and my darling, until I die with you._

Britain sat in his most comfortable armchair in his study. He looked over the massive library he owned, but nothing struck him as worth reading.

All he would think about was Prussia, anyway.

"The git had to go and die before I could tell him I love him," he chuckled to himself darkly. He could feel the tears coming but held them back. After all, a proper gentleman doesn't cry.

_ Yeah, I'll curl up with you until I die with you._


End file.
